


The Founder is a Seahorse

by Sindicrow



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Genocide, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Other, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindicrow/pseuds/Sindicrow
Summary: Something happens during the undercover mission in Liberio. Something very wrong. When Eren comes in contact with Zeke, he seems to activate the founder, but not in the way that he thinks. He turns into the vessel that carries his and Historia's child. How will things proceed from here on out?
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> i horny

The days bled into one another, as he dragged his crippled body listlessly from the other side of the hospital to his usual bench and sank into his thoughts. The usual regrets plagued him. His future memories haunted his nights and, in the morning, Eren Yaeger had nothing to do but confront his reality and maintain the con that he'd fabricated.  
The nurses had written him off as a hopeless case. So his only sort of companionship stemmed from that young Warrior candidate. So eager to please and impressionable to a fault. Sometimes Eren pitied him. Other times, he wondered if the boy was truly so good hearted or if he himself had developed a knack for manipulation. Of all the atrocities he knew he would eventually commit, fooling a young innocent child to do his bidding was not one of them.  
I had seen him somewhere though. That must account for something no? If things must happen the way they are meant to happen, then I am only an instrument of destiny. If I could only see…  
That was another thing that tormented him. In these hazy days where nothing happened, he got to think. He was alone with his thoughts more often than not and his ruminations, often unpleasant, strayed from his plan and purpose to settle faraway. Back to the island. He wondered about his friends, what they must be doing. They must have gotten my letter by now. If I could picture that scene. Did the Commander relay the information back to Paradis? Do they know? They have to come, or else..

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye attracted his attention. A child, no older than four, toddling on unstable feet, was led by his mother near the entrance of the hospital. A man in a filthy gown embraced the boy, looping his good arm around the woman's torso. He seemed stable and healthy and very out of place in this nuthouse but only for a brief moment before his handler came rushing from behind. Restraining the man as he clung to the child with all his might, eyes wide and bloodshot. The woman, visibly distressed, knelt protectively behind the boy who could only stare with amazement at his father's sudden shift to insanity. Eren fidgeted with his cane.

* * *

"What do you think, of me having a child?" She asked. Her expression mild. He searched in the back of his head for an appropriate response, but both his memories and his tact failed him. He pressed his lips firmly and turned to look at the falling leaves. A memory crossed his mind, but one of his own and not a happy one. The silence lengthened, and he could feel her impatience radiating towards him from the way she tugged at her shawl, putting it back in place. He blurted the first thing that came to mind  
"I'm not here to tell you how to live.."  
"No?" She spoke rapidly, a bitter tinge to her tone "You seemed far too interested in my life so far. This is where you draw the line?"

"You misunderstood" He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye anymore "My only wish is for you to live a long and happy life. I wouldn't interfere with your personal matters. You're free to decide what you want. If it is family… then so be it. Regardless of the circumstances."  
He realized he ought to explain himself further. But he spoke the last line with enough venom that he forced himself to shut it lest he antagonize her. She stared at him with obvious surprise. Clearly taken aback by the implication  
"What circumstances? I won't use my child, if that's what you're driving at"  
"I never said-"  
"And the MPs would never force me to do anything I won't be compliant with beforehand, so no worries on that front.."  
"That's for you to decide"  
"Eren!" She cried. He finally looked back. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Her mouth was drawn in a thin line of disappointment "do you think so lowly of me? Do you think you need to save me, even from myself? Do you think I would willingly go with this… this plan?"  
"Why else put forth the suggestion?"  
"Because I WANT A FAMILY!" Her voice was carried by the wind. She looked indignant enough to slap him, or do something worse. Her hair was wild and her face red with fury. "I want a child because I want a family. There. I said it. Is it so terrible to want that?"  
"Historia. You're free to do whatever you want."  
"Then, why did you tell me?" She waved her arms, wide, gesturing at the plain and the trees and the everything "why even tell me? Why did you come here? Why do you keep coming here"  
Eren stared. Dusk was setting and whatever light in the horizon was fading quickly. He felt stupid and awful and very awkward. An impressive assortment of feelings that were very much unlike the vomit inducing pain he carried with him at all times, along with his burden and his memories and his regrets. It was all very mundane. This conversation. He imagined Historia as a girl who was spurning him and him as a normal boy who ought to feel ashamed of being spurned by someone so utterly out of his league. He was dissociating from his reality. His thoughts, swirling in his brain, were out of grasp. I don't understand. _One minute we're discussing matricide and the next she wants a child?_ The farther he swayed from his train of thought, the more aware he became of his body and the way it tensed as Historia approached him solemnly. This wasn't the first time he felt this sensation in her proximity. If anything, he was certain he only felt this way around her.  
"You keep coming here to the orphanage. You keep helping around, free of charge. You even keep a tight leash on the children when I don't tell you to, and for all these services I am very grateful. You stand up for me during the councils. You kept Zeke's plan a secret just so you could protect me. You come here, again, and you tell me your plan and you say it's for my sake and you ask my compliance and my silence and you say that you care. Well how much? Eren. What am I to you?"  
"I don't.."  
"Don't? Eren, the thought if me having a child.. Does it make you uncomfortable?"  
He looked up. Distinctly straying from her piercing gaze.  
"N-no. It's just… strange. Is all. I know you want a family-"  
"And you don't?" She said, puzzled. She stepped even closer, so close he could smell the musk of her sweat and feel the wool of her skirt brushing against his leg. The feel of her made him distracted and drove his heart racing. He was attracted to her. He knew as much. But this Historia, angry, authoritative, strong and unyielding, did something for him he could not fathom. Maybe it was the darkness playing tricks on his eyes but was her body more taut? More appealing in the way it arched back slightly, the curve of her neckline leading to her shadowed cleavage. Her face raised towards his. Her lips no longer thin. Her eyes, wide and questioning. Oh she asked me question-  
"Of course. But I'm dying in 4 years."  
"The way you keep talking.. One might think you're dying tomorrow."  
"I- Historia." He stepped back, just so he could breathe air that didn't smell of her. "I'm not worthy of having a family. I'm not worthy of anything really. Didn't you just hear what I said.. what I intend to do?"  
"Intent is very much different from actions.."  
The intoxicating effect of her faded so suddenly he was surprised with himself. He gave an angry retort  
"I am very much willing to act on that intent. Historia. I'm not joking. This is real. This is inevitable. I am going to slaughter millions. **There's no limit to the violence I'll be committing.** "

She looked at him, and this time, her deep blue eyes were sad but her gaze remained unyielding. It was as if she wanted to penetrate him with her look alone. For the moment, she did something that almost made him jump out of his skin. She held his hand, and led him back to the ring of light. To a tree near the main building where they both sat, bathed by the faint light of lamps on the porch. He was suddenly aware that it was getting late, and that the captain and his "duck train" as he jokingly called his bodyguards for the day, would come and seek him out for dinner. Mundane thoughts invading the intimacy of the moment. It was always like that with Historia. Sometimes, he felt, if he could rest his back on the trunk and close his eyes, he could imagine another reality where he didn't have to do anything he didn't want. He wasn't so disillusioned as to imagine an existence with no pain or suffering. He was far too cynical for that. But for the moment, him staying here, sitting on grass wet from the mist of the evening, Historia by his side, her cold hand still firmly gripping his. He could just, let loose. Forget. Or he could imagine he was someone else. Someone who wasn't destined to become the devil.  
And just like that he was jolted out of his reverie. He opened his eyes and blinked at the hazy scenery. The orphanage sank in semi-darkness and in quietude. Unlike most times of the day, this hour was the most peaceful. The workers had retired to their homes. The children were being attended to by the helpers. Historia was still by his side, her thumb grazing his wrist, drawing circles and circles. She scooched closer, perhaps taking advantage of his inattentiveness. Soon she began to speak, softly, as though she were addressing a child

"When the kids here see you coming, they either run off in fear or stand their ground and look at you with awe. With time I learned that they had never seen a titan before and to them, you looked the proper monster, and those children who stayed and looked, didn't do it out of admiration, but only because they had never seen a monster before. And they were curious."  
He chuckled, a laugh with no mirth  
"Good to know I'm the circus monkey.."  
She punched his shoulder lightly "Let me finish. Wait. Circus?"  
"I dunno. Something from my father's memories I guess. Um, the proper term here… I think that would make me the queen's jester?"  
"Don't joke around. I said they were afraid of you. No wait. Don't give me that look. It's not a bad thing. I have a point I promise."  
He sighed. He guessed he had no right to the claim of victimhood of any sort. And he did growl at those kids. But only because they caused so much mischief. _I was like that once._ "I was a shit kid. Know that? The very worst. How my parents put up with me-"  
"My point is. I told them. I gathered them around me and I told them. About everything you did for humanity inside the walls. I told them you were a hero even if you looked like a monster, and that you were fighting for their sake and for mine. Even when Ar-others told me, and told me, and even if I felt it deep in my heart, that your path may not be one of outright heroism, I still believed, Eren, I do believe that so long that you fight for Paradis and for us, that I will always be your ally. Always."

Silence. He appreciated the sentiment. Was touched even. But the giant disparity between her hopeful speech and the tangible weight of his sins left a bad taste in his mouth. _She doesn't know. She's so blissfully unaware. Even now that I told her about the rumbling._  
"You think I'm stupid, or ignorant?" She didn't miss a beat, and stared him down.  
"No. Neither. Just that you think so highly of me."  
"That is only because I love you."  
He blinked. Her lips broke into a faint smile. She did take him by surprise. Of all the retorts, he didn't expect this simple statement, spoken so casually.  
"When I asked why you were so devoted to my safety and well-being, I was egging you on, but you're as dumb as a rock and still as clueless as in our training days.."  
"No. I understand. I'm just-"  
"Unworthy?" An eyebrow raised, she put her face close to his, her exhales prickling his skin "No man can do this much for a woman, and go this far without feeling at the very least a twinge of attraction. Are you the honorable sort, Eren?"  
Silence. Again. He didn't even know what he was anymore. He didn't know. But he felt. Her body pressing against his. Her soft, warm flesh pushing against him.  
"Stop feeling worthless. We burned that bridge when we crossed it. Long ago. Let's not take ten steps backwards, eh? Eren you may be humanity's enemy and you have made me an accomplice, by default. No. Don't talk. Just listen to me. I don't regret following your lead. And you were right. I'm not ready to sacrifice my body. I could do it. If there was no other way. But… you, you're giving me another way."  
He inhaled sharply. She was crying now, and her face was laying against his neck. Her tears dampening his skin.

"When I was a child, and I understood that I wasn't wanted, that I could disappear and the world would be all the more grateful for it, I wanted to grant the world that wish. I wanted to disappear. I was a terrible, abominable addition to the sea of other unwanted children. I didn't have a family like you did." at that, she looked at him, her expression strangely calm "Even, after, when I grew up. Everyone I've ever loved. Everyone I've ever cared about, has either died, or left me." She sat back to look him full in the face. She was no longer crying and her expression was deadpan, resigned even.

"I'm not letting fate decide my future anymore Eren. If I want a family, then I had better acquire it on my own, and I had better protect it. No, I'm not here to judge you. I'm no better. We both want what's best for Para- no, what's best for us. I said it before Eren. Even if the whole world is your enemy, I will still be your ally. I will still defend you in front of the children, and the brass and your friends even. I will always say that you are fighting for Paradis. We all must play our designated roles in this world, and the only ones who stray from that duty are the selfish, the fools and the ignorant. Or the ones who know too much."  
She smiled. A sad, small, pitiful smile that distorted her features and painted a picture of outright misery. His hand came to cup her face, reluctantly at first, but when the familiar zap of memory string didn't take over his brain, the tension was released. He brought her face closer, till they were inches away. The tip of his nose met hers. He whispered  
"Historia. Do you want a child?"  
No answer. Just a single tilt of her face, downwards. Yes. acquiescence. Shame. Turmoil. **Love shouldn't feel like this.**  
"Let's go inside"

* * *

  
Sex was pleasant. It was also awkward, clumsy and full of bumps. They both knew where everything went and how the other's body worked. They had downed two bottles of rum from the farmers' cabinet to get over the initial apprehension. They also talked, a lot. And they laughed even. At first, it had felt too formal and calculated. The way they both marched from the outdoors straight to the bedroom felt comical in hindsight. But then they took a breather, they started with the basics. They kissed, and kissed again. And then they sank into each other. A ball of writhing bodies on the floor. He followed his instincts. She seemed to be gently guiding him to do her bidding. At one point, he felt like nibbling at her small perky breasts, but her surprised eek! deterred him from going further.  
Eventually, he didn't think. His body seemed to have a mind of its own. I am no different from an animal. Came the unwelcome thought that he banished, wildly. When he came inside her, she went rigid, her legs crossed around his torso were akin to steel. And then she released him, and he rolled away and buried his face in the pillow. There a deep seated sense of shame inside him. A discomfort that he didn't seem to place. Maybe it was the imminent hangover, rearing its ugly head, maybe it was the worry that someone might figure out he wasn't home yet and report to the top brass. He didn't need that suspicion hanging over his shoulder. Maybe it was the- **_I kneel, the child looks at me with surprise. He's asking why I'm crying, somewhere another child is asking why I'm crying_** \- he bites his tongue and the pain jolts him back to reality. He rolls back, sunlight illuminating the room. Their belongings in disarray. Did I sleep? Was that a dream? He looks back at Historia, and she greets him with a smile as bright as the morning  
"I hope we made a child last night." she says, her hand resting on her stomach.

* * *

The cane outmaneuvers him. He limps close to the wall for the additional support. One of the nurses approaches him but he grunts back at everything she says and she retreats. Later, at the jotted time, he walks the length of the hospital and leans his back against a secluded wall. Waiting. He almost dozes off when the sound of footsteps jerks his head upright. He watches as his half brother jogs towards him. He looked older than his 28 years. Older and more conniving. He needed to tell him what he wanted to hear if he could ever hope at giving Paradis the future that it needed. The rumbling is imminent. No need to worry. Should I greet him formally? Why is he looking at me like that?  
"You look like father." Zeke Yaeger declares. Eren could feel his disappointment, somehow. He did let himself go. Partly because he felt he should look the role he played and partly because he couldn't bring himself to care about his appearance. He shrugged. Zeke talked. He listened. And sure enough, Zeke's plan aligned with what Yelena, his zealous follower, had relayed to him six months ago. The man's brilliant solution to Eldia's problem was a self induced sterilization. A savage wrath almost takes him over until he pushes it down under a veil of brooding contemplation. He rubs his stump absent-mindedly and focuses on a line of ants, looping their way across the jagged pathway. He almost misses it when Zeke pops the question

"So what do you think?"

_I think many things, brother. I'm thinking how I can somehow fool you into touching me and if you're dense enough to fall for my ruse. No. You're anything but. You must be thinking the same thing of me right this instant. I could smell your wariness, it's so palpable. I'm not made for mind games but I believe I could woo you. We do have the same father, after all. And I did see you through his lens. And I felt sorry for you. Or maybe he did..?_   
_A good man, he was. Our father. No. Too good. That's the last thing you want to hear. Should I discredit him outright? too obvious. Should I mention my memories? Ah, but then you might suspect what I'd seen. And I need you blind. At least on that front._

"I think-" _your plan is sensible? Our death is better in numbers than that of the world? Somewhere I'm dooming Historia's child with that sentence. That would be a kindness in your book brother. What is it, but a clump of flesh and small fragile bones that you would sooner sentence to death before you admit you're a slave to a dead man's ideology. **The children**_ "-when our father usurped the founder from the Reiss family. He didn't just kill the owner of that power. That scene of slaughter. I lived it myself. When he crushed the Reiss children beneath his feet. When they crumbled into red meaty pulps in his hand. It was as if I did this. I felt their blood on my hand. I saw their bodies as though I were there." 

He was met with a blank stare and expectant silence. _Make your point._  
"But If he hadn't stolen that power, I would be dead ten times over. And the Reiss family would have remained dominant. And the people behind the walls would still be ignorant."

He could feel his brother hold his breath. He could muster a weak "So you think our father's right?" before setting the curtain of deep disappointment over this conversation, only for Eren to retort  
"I think… I had no right to exist. It was wrong. All of it. My life. The people's suffering. I think it could've all been avoided if I hadn't been born. Even those children" he flexed his palm inward "would be alive if it hadn't been for my father's sin.." _Yes, those children. Are they the reason you're so emphatic all of a sudden brother? What about my child? Would you feel so terrible at the prospect of his death?_

And then Zeke procured the ball. He was far watchful for his own good. Eren's hand slipped. He bent down to pick it up, murmuring an apology, when a violent current almost shook him to his very core, and everything was connected for just an instant before he violently fell back on his rump. His ears ringing. His mouth full of acid, his vision foggy. Zeke's drawl ripped him from that state. And he looked up. Had he not felt it? Was that not the coordinate just now? _Did I activate it? Is it the rumbling?_ He stared wildly at Zeke who instructed him to switch his crutch to the other side. "I can't help you up. You know we can't risk activating the coordinate here in Liberio. I'm sorry." and Eren's confusion only deepened. He could feel nothing for a minute, and then as he pushed himself to stand, a violent urge to retch overcame him. He was disoriented and had to lean against the cold wall to steady himself. He was clammy all over. A strange sensation that harkened back to those vague childhood days when he was feverish and his mother stayed at his bedside, wiping his brow and nursing him to health. He had never had the onset of an illness since, he puzzled, but it was hard to string two thoughts together. It was hard to stand. One leg, crutch, wall and all. He felt like he was about to crumble.

Somewhere, far away. Zeke was asking if he was alright. He swallowed the bile in his throat and nodded faint-heartedly. But he forced himself to listen. And he forced himself to feign interest.   
But then Zeke was close to him. Too close for his personal space, and his expression was a mix of concern and discomfort as he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone  
"You look ill. Are you alright? Did you transform recently and eat up your stamina? Do you want to go inside?"  
"I'm fine" he covered his mouth with a filthy hem "sick.. I think.. the hospital food.." No matter how hard he reasoned, he couldn't make sense of it. He had stew for lunch and nothing since. Sometimes he neglected his meals, but he did have a sturdy body, amputated leg aside.   
"I don't think so." Zeke frowned "I ought to know. This clinic is top tier even for an internment zone. My grandfather used to run the place, back in the day." He watched him closely as he edged his way farther, back towards his chosen bench. "Yep. We're going inside. Just lean on me." He looped his arm around his shoulder, taking care so their skins do not touch. Though the harm was already done. Did he really not feel it? _Did I activate the founder? Why is my body so.. weak..?_

* * *

Far into the distance, in another sunset, across the sea, the screams of a woman echoed in the wilderness. 

It seemed there was no theory to explain what had happened. One moment her child was inside her, kicking. And the next. Gone. 


	2. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to proceed from here? Historia is under the impression that she's underwent a miscarriage. Meanwhile, Eren is surprised at the state of his body.

Eren was on the verge of turning around in his cot, shifting in his sleep, when something rigid and firm came in the way.

His entire body felt heavy and unnatural. He had dealt with injuries before. Even when he was in the process of regenerating his limbs, uncomfortable though that may be, he never felt this sense of alienation inside his own body. He kicked away the flimsy sheet and made as to sit up, so he could at least assess what was genuinely wrong with him. But again, his body, unyielding, strained under an unusual weight. _An unusual weight._

He patted himself down. Hands traveling from his "makeshift" stump to his groin to his lower abdomen, where he was struck by the inspection, instead of the expected smooth surface of his belly, lay a _growth_ of some sort. This time he sat up fully, his hands encircling the curve that was now his gut. And his brain seemed so utterly, bewilderingly stupefied he could make no sense of this happenstance. _Did.. did I grow in size?_ His fingers tugged at his belly, expecting the loose skin to stretch at his will as it usually did, but was only met with a hard, taut and firm surface. It was as it someone had sewn a rock to his midriff.

But what happened after was what truly shocked him. One minute he was rising from his position, reaching for the bedside table, when the this physical, heavy rock that replaced his stomach _moved._ With one motion he was rid of his nightshirt. Once again, he placed his hand, palm pressed against his now bare giant stomach, and waited. Deliberated. He could hear his heart beat in his throat. Cold sweat matting his brow. And waited. _one, two, three, four- OH!_

Something under his skin moved. As if in response to his touch. Slowly, silently, he put his hands at either side of him and mused. He began to rock back and forth, so as to soothe his wild thoughts. His mind was all over the place.

_I must be ill. There's no explanation._ And his musings traveled back to those old days of childhood, when he surveyed his father's work from afar. Never the sort of child to sit down quietly and observe. But inquisitive enough to hang back and stare at the assortment of oddities that sometimes entered his father's office. There was a woman once, with a growth on her neck the size of a pear. His father had called it a _tumor_ , and advised the unfortunate woman to travel back to wall Sina. Where her ailment could be treated with much surer hands. Though in hindsight, was his father not more qualified than the entire collective medical body of Paradis? _If I think back, I am lost. And even if I glimpse forward-_ _ **Forward.**_ He closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt unusually tired and unfocused. As though the strange state of his body affected his mind. _Did I see this in my memories? Why can't I-_.

He shifted uncomfortably in his position. Suddenly aware of his visible nakedness in a room full of sleeping patients. Some of whom had begun to stir in their beds. _Insane. I must be going mad like these lunatics. Is madness contagious?_ _The nurses must be making their rounds by this hour.. If I could just- Stand._ He pushed himself with all his might. Swaying in place even as he steadied his grip on the wall. His entire center of gravity has shifted overnight and the sudden movement brought an onslaught of terrible effects. Dizziness, nausea, his leg threatened to crumble under its new weight. But he couldn't crumble **yet.** Or let this slowly creeping sense of doom and panic overtake him. _What I truly fear is the unknown. I'm not so fragile. This is but an illness and the people here are competent enough to treat me right._

With one determined huff, and lean onto his crutch, Eren made as to head towards the exit, only for him to tumble onto himself. Good limb, stump, deformed torso and all rolled on the padded floor with a painful thud. And for an instant, he saw stars.

* * *

**It seemed there was no theory with which to explain what happened.**

One minute, she was in bed, laying motionless yet awake. _Ready to face another day?_ She thought, her eyes adjusting to the dim light peering from the windows. _Ready to keep up the charade?_ Her hair was a birds nest, splayed across her feathery pillows. Some officers were due to check in on her today. _No not that shrewd woman from the garrison who keeps addling me with her questions… I cannot playact for them today. But if they so much as sniff a hint of suspicion on me they'll drag Zackley down and he- you're idle today aren't you?_ She thought, her hand as she'd assumed, coming up to stroke her bump as it did thousands of times in the past four months. Ever since she'd started to show. The touch was comforting. The babe's constant movement kept her up many a night, soothing her terror. Easing her anxiety. Giving her a much needed respite. She was using the baby as much as it was using her, if she would admit it to herself. The baby was an excuse to steer clear from military protocol and observe all the people she's doomed with her complicit association with Eren- She shot down the memory hard, just as her cold hand lingered on a flat, smooth surface that was now her stomach.

Confusion led to bewilderment led to panic. In an instant, adjusting to the light weight her body no carried, she jumped to the other side of the room, where stood a full length room and stared, and stared. And **stared.** Slack jawed, hands desperately clutching her flat middle, eyes boring into the reflection that had departed her six months ago, she screamed.

A rush of servants, doctors, military men and women and a pandemonium later, she knelt on her bed, eyes raw from tears, nose clogged with snot. She had bit down hard on her hands and fingers, and pinched her wrists to make sure that this was real, that this was now happening. _There is no baby. The chief doctor and midwife both proclaimed._ But how could there be no baby? _YOU SAW ME YESTERDAY_ She had screamed. To anyone who would listen. _I WAS A SOW. MY CHILD WAS INSIDE ME KICKING. MY CHILD WAS ALIVE INSIDE ME, I FELT HIM._ She insisted. And the doctors agreed, but gave no answer.

"If your grace could show us the bloody sheets-"

"I DIDN'T CHANGE THE SHEETS. I WOKE UP LIKE THIS!"

"Yes but your Grace, it's simply not possible to have a miscarriage without any sort of residue involved-"

"I DIDN'T HAVE A MISCARRIAGE DO YOU HEAR ME! WHAT IS HAPPE-"

"I know but your Grace, just to be certain-"

"You can't explain the state of her body now, can you? This is something that goes far beyond anyone's comprehension.." interrupted some middle aged MP. He was a kindly man who only addressed her in courtesies, and never infringed on her privacy or questioned her choices the way the people of his division usually did. Nile something. In her wild state she was conscious enough to acknowledge him. And his level headed input transported her from hysterics to a strangely apathetic state, where she rubbed the spot where her baby once slept and kicked. So full of life and yearning to be born. And now nothing. Not even a sign, a lingering of any sort. One minute she was a vessel of a new life. The next, she was devoid of all sense.

Solemnly, mechanically, she stripped for the medical examination. She could see the doctor's stupefied expression as he surveyed her lithe, supple body. The same man who had probed her womb only a few days earlier _to check the fetus' position_ and commented on the remarkable growth of her bump from one month to the next. That was a day and this was another. And the enigma of where her child, her baby, had vanished to and how, was declared by the professionals as scientifically and irrefutably paradoxical.

Now she lay again. Empty. She heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. She would grieve, but this situation was fantastically illogical. Even when the doctor advised that she should behave on the grounds of her having had a miscarriage, she couldn't process. Only when the man she chose for her poster partner entered her chamber did she stir. He stood in darkness, deliberating. As though wondering if he should reveal a terrible secret. She motioned for him to come forward and he complied. Silence reigned for arduous minutes before she broke it, her hoarse voice barely sounding above an octave

"I can't make sense of it. I can't. I don't know what to feel. I don't know what's happening."

He seemed to be watching her. For signs of _grief or agitation. Does he figure I might kill myself? Why not. Some women do._ In fact, by the assumption of her having lost the baby alone, the many women who ran the orphanage in her stead came forward, offering words of strength and encouragement. Hollow words, as she wasn't sure herself what had even happened. But they were quick to accept this new change in circumstances. Quicker than if there had actually been blood on the sheets and traces of rotten flesh dribbling on her thigh and a hollow large stomach to point at and prove her loss. One day their queen was pregnant, sitting in her usual spot, or shuffling closely to the walls like some mouse or an old woman. And the next she was not. She was now the same frail nineteen year old they'd seen six months ago. As if her body hadn't undergone that massive change during those months. As though she'd hallucinated her child from the moment of its conception to his development inside her. The day he'd first squirmed. Those faint traces of his limbs that he left on her skin after every particularly hard kick. She stifled the urge to bawl. Swallowed her sobs. Her fingers, unconsciously dug into her scalp. Ready to rip her hair from the roots. Ready to hurt. She needed to feel something other than disbelief. Something tangible and real.

A cough. She turned to her side, staring in the darkness at where Baer stood. _He will ask me what to do with himself now. Like he always does._ The momentary distraction from her own woes, woke her somewhat. As her lingering apathy morphed into annoyance, she sat up, fully aware of her disheveled state.

"What?" She spoke, rather harshly "Aren't you going to give me your condolences like the others? You ought to. Or have you been _grieving_ on your own?" pushing the comforter aside, she pulled herself upright, willing every cruel and awful though inside her to well and grow and burn this cursed room and the cursed man who was her partner in this massive charade "You know your part doesn't end here, yes? I'm not releasing you. You better brush up on the tears because you'll need them when you play the role of the bereaved father in front of the top brass" Her eyes bore into him, drinking his shriveled state. The stained tunic, the unbrushed hair. But the face was frozen in an expression of queer reflection. It seemed he wasn't intimidated. Or maybe he wasn't as dense as she'd perceived him. Before uttering another threat, he spoke, quietly, methodically

"The MPs are saying you killed the baby and buried it somewhere on the estate."

Stunned, she could do nothing but watch him. Her hands folded in her lap. Her breathing uneven. He finally had the decency to lower his gaze, and to shuffle in his position. He understood that he needed to explain himself further

"Not all of them, mind you. I over'eard the doctor first say it. An' then the MPs told the guards of the house. And they said, they needed to _comb_ , I dunno, comb the place or something. To look for a body. They think you had an early birth and buried the young'un on your own. Out o' shame. They talked to me 'bout it. Asked if I helped in some way.."

"They're going to comb the estate in search of a dead fetus that doesn't exist" she said in a dead, hollow voice. She spoke matter-of-factly. As if this accusation didn't concern her. As if she weren't being suspected of burying her own still-born child out of _shame, was it? They think I am ashamed and that I threw this tantrum to throw them off the trail of my recently deceased baby. So they could, what? Rat me off to Zackley? And then do what? Air this grievance in the other divisions? Smear my name, or whatever remained of my reputation intact after these 6 months of voluntary seclusion, further. At what end, exactly_

"He needs me." She muttered. Baer looked up in surprise at her bitter tone. "He needs me for stability, the bastard." She rose from her bed with a rush of new found emotion. Wrath that boiled inside her and burned away the seeds of martyrdom and self-pity. Truth be told, she had missed her body. And even if she felt flabbergasted still at this paradoxical situation, she couldn't lie low as the rumor mill churned yet another foul smelling story about her, at this dire time. _They will always seek to explain the unexplainable with the most vicious accusation. It's the MPs. Always the MPs. It's as if they've made it their personal quest to shit on my life._ She threw away her flimsy, now overgrown garment and headed to her dressing quarters, fueled with nothing but resolve and hate.

* * *

Eren held his breath as the man pushed and probed on his large stomach, beginning from the curve leading to his groin and poking painfully at the sides. He seemed adamant to inflict upon him the most severe amount of pain imaginable. Whether the physician was truly so reckless or it was only his new sensitivity to touch, Eren could not decide. Could not think even. He bit on his lip, careful not to draw blood, and bore through it.

He maintained his con even now, grunting instead of speaking. It was just his luck that the nurse on duty happened upon his collapsed body and summoned the doctor. He needn't verbalize his issue, as one look at the poor woman's face spelled her horror at his state. For now he kept calm. Occasionally gripping the arm rests for support, as the grueling examination went on and on. Eventually, the doctor procured a stethoscope, mechanically placing it on his belly. The growth inside him fluttered in tune with his heart palpitations. As if that wasn't enough to freak him out, he sensed- _No he knew_ \- that there was something inside him turning about restlessly. He held his breath. Beads of perspiration streaking his brow. _I must be imagining things. I must-_ A sharp intake of breath, and the doctor stepped away looking with a mixture of terror and confusion. He held his helper aside, quietly murmuring about authorities and more qualified medical staff. The word _Marleyan reports_ rang queerly in his ears and he realized what dire danger he would find himself in if he didn't make himself move in the next few minutes. The hospital staff clearly thought he was mentally challenged, enough for them to divulge their plans of ratting him to the military within his range. He bided his time. Waiting for them to leave the room. So he could begin to think. And plot.

_Zeke._ Zeke was the key to this. If he could just come in contact with him again- he shuffled. Sitting upright, he scanned the room to look for some kind of garment. _I may have to regenerate my leg, if I have any hope of making a hasty escape. But then, where would I go?_ He thought back to the first few months when he went undercover in Liberio. He had managed back then, but not without casualties. And many a time, he came close to getting his cover blown. _Small chance of making it on my own now that I'm in this state. Even if it isn't what I think- No. Absolute insanity. Stop with this nonsense._ He was leaving. No way around this. Wrapped in a spare coat, he treaded painfully towards the door.

The courtyard was half-empty. Sneakily trudging to where he had met Zeke the day before, he began to weigh his options. _I can't come in contact with him, even if he weren't under heavy scrutiny. The man himself cannot be trusted._ Reaching the turn, obscured in the shade, he leaned on the wall and began to unravel his knotted stump. Steam emanated from the previously dead limb as it regenerated. He pulled his head back, breathing heavily. His stomach was churning with a low yet noticeable rumble. He patted the growth, as if appeasing it to stop both moving and _hurting._ He had a robust built, but now he felt as fragile as a wallflower. Ready to crumble at a moment's notice.

Now he stood on his own two feet. And he found it much easier to balance his new weight with all his physical faculties intact. He began to wander, aimlessly at first. Without a sense of purpose or plan in the horizon. But as he pondered, he realized he needed somewhere to stay, _away from unwelcome eyes and unseemly attention._ By the train tracks at the outskirts of the internment zone was his encampment for a few miserable days during his mission. Yet he was agile enough to protect himself and had assaulted a few people to remain unmolested. Small chance of that now. And he couldn't maintain the secrecy for long either way. Zeke hadn't set another date for them to meet, as yet. That boy Falco would be _en route_ to deliver his letters. _Shit, Falco._

The image of the small warrior candidate inquiring about his whereabouts faced with his vacant hospital spot appeared before him. The staff would eventually question him and they will seize the letters. _And then what. The plan falls in the water? The festival is due in a few weeks and I had already sent to the scouts about the overview._ _ **The scouts.**_

He stopped, dead in his tracks. Matter of fact, even with his two legs and a crutch for support, he hadn't made a dent in this foreseeable trek to the railway. His pace was that slow. And he was huffing for breath and inhaling with difficulty, as though something were pressing against his ribs. The thought that occurred to him presently, awakened a sense of humility and guilt that he could not quench. _The Azumabito residence is the same way. Close to the fork. Should I choose to knock on their door and present them with myself as a hostage. An ungainly sight to behold. And then the scouts may have already left the place. It has been six months since my desertion. No sense in dwelling. And that boy Falco only ever delivered my letters to their destined receptor. That deceitful Azumabito woman who claimed closeness to Mikasa._ At the memory, he blanched. He could face no one like this. Not when he hadn't achieved what he came here to do. Not when he had gone to great lengths to blow the scouts and their Marleyan counterpart off his trail. He couldn't backtrack. Strange tumor or no. He marched on. _Ready to sleep by the tracks if that's what it takes. And tomorrow… I can figure this out. This is only a bump on the long road._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took so long for me to proceed only because I've lost the initial drive that made me write this (horniness basically)

**Author's Note:**

> too much angst


End file.
